Thick as Thieves
by Scarabbug
Summary: J’onn found himself wondering not for the first time how the others heard such music. Oneshot.


**I set myself a challenge to write a fanfic inspired by a song. It didn't turn out quite as well as I wanted it to on a limited time schedule, so instead of something deep and meaningful, ****you get this rambling, vague, contemplate-our-navels short'fic. **

**NB: This fiction is set after series five. If J'onn sounds a little more... well, human than usual, it's because of that. **

* * *

Thick as Thieves. 

J'onn leaned back in his chair, furrowed his brow, and (after listening to approximately fifty seconds of acoustic guitar), made the least _J'onn-ish_ statement he could possibly have come up with. '...I don't get it.'

Wally sniggered, the sensation clear and vibrant in J'onn's head. 'It's a _song_, J'onn. You know, chords, lyrics, usually some guy in the background hammering on a drum kit...?'

J'onn offered a gesture which was the closest a Martian could get to rolling his eyes. ''I think we're both familiar with the basics, Wally.'

Shayera chuckled. Her eyes slide in Diana's direction and something which was not _quite_ a smile passed between them. It was... pleasant, J'onn thought, to sense the subtle changes pass between them. Feelings that until recently, he had thought forever tarnished. It wasn't not quite same consistency of thought and understanding that Diana used to express with regards to _Hawkgirl_, but... still... This evening, this whole _environment_, feels almost the way things used to feel between them, before the League expanded and humanity became just that little bit more (unbearable)... complicated.

Almost.

'There's obviously been _some_ kind of crime committed,' Superman –_Clark_– frowned. 'And they're covering it up together, right?'

'More like one is covering for the other,' Shayera elaborated. 'I figure they're friends, and this singer is a bit of a troublemaker. Though I have no idea what _Thick as Thieves_ means.'

'It's a human saying. Refers to a close friendship, I think,' Diana explains. 'I'm not sure of the origins, though. Anyway these... _thieves_ in question are obviously friends, and if one is a troublemaker then if something happened the odds are people would blame him anyway. Even though on this occasion it wasn't him who committed the crime.' Diana added, listening intently to the chords strumming through the surface of the Metro Tower's rec-room . 'There's also a woman involved in somehow... but they don't seem to say anything else about her.'

'Yeah, I think that's a weak line; they probably used it to make the radios think it's just another romance ditty.'

'Heeey, Supes, we've been through this, no journalisting the singers,' Wally said in mock-warning.

Superman blinked. 'I think it's a writer thing.'

'I think it's a _Batman_ thing. A creepy, needs-to-analyse-everything-to-death Batman thing. Anyway, _he_ should be the one here psyching out musical artists, he hardly _ever_ turns up when we organize stuff; the guy _still_ needs to get out of his cave more..'

'We didn't organize this.' Green Lantern pointed out.

'True,' Shayera frowned. 'How _did_ we all end up in here, anyway? This isn't exactly a professional meeting.'

'Meh,' Wally shrugged. _Who cares? There's us, there's music, it's cool, no need to save the world. Doesn't really matter. _'I was bored, I stuck the stereo on, you appeared, J'onn appeared, cool tunes started playing', I found chips, GL came to find out who took _his_ chips... it all just sorta happened,' Wally was now searching the obviously empty bowl. 'An' speaking of chips, we're all out.'

'Those were my chips,' John muttered grumpily, but the tremble of his thoughts is anything but genuinely annoyed.

'Ah-ah! They were in the _Metro Cafeteria's Refrigerator_. That makes em' League property.'

'Maybe its murder,' Shayera piped up, earning herself a couple of confused looks. 'What? I'm talking about the _song_! Why else would the singer be so nervous? He sounds as if they're covering up something pretty substantial and he's talking about _guns_.'

'No, it can't be anything more than theft; I mean the song even has _thieves_ in the title.' Clark said.

Shayera's thoughts quavered for a moment, wondering, before she continued. 'I suppose, but this whole thing doesn't exactly sound like—'

'Shh, both of you. I'm trying to hear the rest of the words... That is some very _strange_ imagery about haemorrhages,' Diana frowned intently. 'Can we play that verse again?'

J'onn found himself wondering (not for the first time) how the others _heard_ such music. He sensed more than simple cover ups and adolescent emotions. More than chords and notes in various tones. He knew that the others sensed more than this, also, of course –humanity had a strange aptitude for comprehending sensations on an intrinsic emotional level without rally understanding _how_ they knew. Something Martians, with their telepathy and empathic awareness, had never needed. Humans called it intuition.

Still, there were limits to it. This would explain why they were now currently organized in the rec room analysing the lyrics of a song from semi-popular culture, yet were unable to settle upon a single meaning that they all agreed upon.

J'onn didn't particularly see how the _words_ could express the songs meaning anyway.

Songs like this reminded J'onn very much of Wally, as much because of their instrumentals as the associated lyrics. Because of the constant vibrations that accompanied his every thought. J'onn didn't ever pry into the minds of his teammates. Not as a general rule, anyway. Though he had to admit at times such as this, it was highly tempting to do so. A temptation he had rarely given into, usually resulting in some less-than-tame discoveries. After one of which he decided that Wally's head was almost as strange a place to be inside as Bruce's, once you got beneath all the open, obvious layers of energy and impatience that coated Wally's psyche like a thick, constantly moving blanket.

But Wally never spoke about the inside of his mind, and J'onn would not ask. It was, frankly, none of his business.

Wally groaned and reached for the potato chips. 'You guy s are making too much of this, seriously, it's a _song_, you're not supposed to psycho-analyse it, you're just supposed to sing along and dance... Hey, Shayera, dance with me?'

'No.'

'Oh come on, it's easy.'

'_Beside_ the point. I'm not dancing to a song about _murder_.'

'But we don't _know_ it's about that,' Clark added. 'All we know is that there's been a crime committed and these two boys are keeping it a secret... and what was that about "trace amounts in his blood"? That suggests illegal substances to me. Not that they're anymore likely to sing about _that_ on a CD usually aimed at adolescents.'

There was a vague tickling sensation if the back of J'onn's mind, and he realised Wally was laughing again. 'Aw, man, from now on we're playing dance an' stuff without lyrics. We need to do this more often, you're all completely out of check with modern music.'

'I see nothing wrong with _older_ music, Classical has a flair to it that doesn't appear often in other styles,' J'onn said. 'And we don't do this often because it doesn't fall within the within our schedules.'

John grinned. 'Exactly. Except for hotshot here who probably listens to whole CD's on speed play while he's waiting in the queue for the bathroom.'

'Hey, if I weren't enjoying this really good song (at your boring, _normal_ human speed, I might add), I'd probably take offence at that, GL. And for the record, I _have_ an MP3 player.'

'A what?' J'onn frowns.

'Yeah, you know, it's one of these new musical devices that work by converting sound waves into digital and sort of... compressing it by removing all the unneeded bits. The parts that humans don't hear anyway. Come on, they've _gotta_ have some of that techno stuff in Japan.'

'Wally, I live in _China_.'

'Oh. Yeah.' Wally leaned backwards on the couch. 'Meh. It's already obsolete anyway. Everyone's after Epods now. Looks like fashion's the only thing on this planet that moves faster than me.'

'You know I've listened to one of those before,' Clark said, folding his arms. 'An MP3 player that is... They never sound quite _right_ to me. I suppose it comes with my hearing. I have a wider range, so I notice what's been taken out a lot more. Just because you don't _hear_ something doesn't mean it isn't _there_.'

Wally _actually_ seemed to think about this for a moment (which for him was virtually forever) then he lost interest again and turned back to J'onn. 'Anyway, you Martians probably had all this awesome high tech stuff for listening to music, huh?

'Actually, no, we...' J'onn paused, because he was once again at a loss to explain to his human (in spite of overwhelming evidence to the contrary) friend the precise intricacies of Martian society. There was no way to put Martian music into words. _That_ was what he had meant when he said that he did not understand. Martian songs had no words, to speak of. They didn't need them. They operated on an emotional level, not simply an auditory one. There had been no need for listening devices or technology. Indeed, like Wally's MP3 player, such things would only _decrease_ the quality of the song.

J'onn could sense the faint smile on Superman's face, and the memories of an old human celebration rose into his mind with fresh warmth. As the first person in millennia to hear a Martian song (and understand it in a way beyond normal human perception) Clark came the closest to understanding, but even his awareness was faint and distant. The closest comparison Clark had said he could come up with for it was the song of the Humpback Whale, or the Orca, and this seemed appropriate enough: they were creatures of great intelligence, but simple mindsets. Beings who did not think about what they needed to say or how they needed to say it: they simply _spoke_. Their feelings said everything they needed to say.

Rather like another individual he knew... an impatient, red suited individual who had just disappeared from the room, returning in just under three seconds with a newly refilled bowl of potato chips. At some point, J'onn began to understand precisely what had happened to the Justice Lords. Why the death of that one particular individual had proven more catastrophic than anyone could imagine. He couldn't imagine the Justice Lords ever listening to music.

It was no longer quite so painful for J'onn to think of his old home –his old _world_– but there were still faint tinges of regret that seem to touch almost all of his memories. He had long become resigned to the fact that these sensations would probably never entirely go away. Not even now, after so any years amongst humans... after finding _Anming_...

The song had ended, and must have been the last one on the disc because now there was silence except for the steady humming of the stereo and the echoing, distant sensation of contentment and curiosity running through the minds of J'onn's teammates. It is not the awkward uncertainty that used to follow any of J'onn's recollections about his family. There is nothing uncomfortable about this situation. Nothing uncomfortable at all.

...It had been a long while since he was inclined to call them his family. J'onn had missed it.

'May we listen to that song again?' he said casually. 'I don't suppose there'll be another apocalypse due for a few minutes.'

'Great idea, and let's try it _without_ the psychology this time, guys.' Wally spoke through a mouthful of popcorn as he reached out to push the button in the CD player. 'And can we get Bats up here, already? He's missing all the potato chips...'

* * *

"_Well, listen to yourself  
There is a hemorrhage in your mouth  
It won't stop bleeding  
Well, you may be the trigger  
I will hold the smoking gun  
You'll get away clean  
I'll keep your secrets __'til the grave has swallowed me,  
And I will never tell a tortured soul __there burning by my side  
That I am a sinner  
I am a savior  
I am a lie_

_So keep your mouth shut,  
Keep your guard up  
I swear I'll make it right."_

Dashboard Confessional: Thick As Thieves


End file.
